Growing up in east Tennessee, I became well acquainted with hills. We lived a short drive away from a famous group of tree-covered ‘hills’ called the Smoky Mountains. You could not go very far in our neighborhood without going up or down a hill. I walked up one side and down the other of a small hill everyday on my way to East LaFollette Elementary school—so, I can truthfully tell my children, “when I was a kid I had to walk to school . . . and it was up hill both ways”. We skateboarded and rode go-carts down the hill in front of our house. It was always a thrill to go flying down Cumberland Hill on our bikes, starting at the Church of God which sat at the top and stopping (if we were lucky) just before the stop sign that stood at the bottom.

In high school, I satisfied my love for running by participating in cross-country. Workouts often involved running up and down those East Tennessee hills.

It was in my freshman year when I first met Coach John Faulkner. He had the typical small frame of a distance runner, but he became a giant to me as I learned from him throughout each season of track and cross-country. We met in the high school gym. I learned that he was going to be the coach for the newly formed track team. I walked up and introduced myself and said I would like to try out for the mile run. He took one look at my six-foot frame and said I may be more suited to a shorter distance like the 220 or 440 yard run. So we met after school for time-trials. I do not remember the distance now but Coach Faulkner timed me in a sprint. As I finished he looked at the stopwatch and said with a smile, “maybe we’ll stick with the mile.” And from that day I became a “distance man”. For the rest of my high school career I ran the one and two mile run and cross-country. 

Coach had been a great runner in his day; he was able to run the mile in the low four-minute range—even at the “old” age of 35 to 40 (when I met him) he was still able to lead our team in workouts. I never remember out-running him until my junior year—and even then I question if he may have allowed the defeat just to build my confidence. 

Coach was the eternal optimist. If he ever heard any guys on the team complain about running conditions before a workout or race, he would always say, “It’s days like this that you run your best time!” If the complaint was: “it’s too hot” he would combine his earlier comment with “the heat opens up the pores of your skin and you can run faster.” If instead the complaint was “it’s too cold” he would add “it’s so cold you can run as fast as you want and never get hot.” 

It was always surprising how he seemed to be everywhere along the course as we would compete in a 3 mile cross-country race. It was never hard to pick his familiar voice out of the crowd gathered to cheer each runner on. 

“Come on Mike,” he would call out, “You can do it . . . that guy in front of you is getting tired . . . just a little further and then you get a downhill . . . don’t look back . . . finish strong!” And somehow, no matter how tired I was or how badly I wanted to stop and walk, his encouragement gave me a boost and kept me going. 

It was probably from the very first workout that he began to ingrain something into us that I did not fully understand or believe until my last season or two. He would tell us, “When you learn to love the hills, that’s when you will learn to win.” The phrase would be shortened on race day; he would stand along the trail—usually as we struggled up a steep section of the course—and call out the reminder, “The hill is where you win!” 

Nearly 40 years have passed since then. I am not sure my good coach realized that those same words would ring in my ears countless times in the years to come. Not only have they been there as I have continued to enjoy running, but they have spilled over and affected all areas of life—as a husband and a father, in my career, and as a Christian. 

As all people do, I discovered that life is full of figurative hills; I believe this is by design. Because there is a God in heaven who loves us, He allows us to face difficulties and trials. He knows that the challenges or “hills” that we face and overcome help us to grow. Just like runners in a race, how we face the hills will determine who we become. 

I am grateful to have grown up in the southeast among those hills and in an area sometimes referred to as the “Bible Belt”. This nickname comes from the high concentration of those who believe the bible to be the word of God and have faith in Jesus Christ. It would not be permitted today, but in my elementary school, if we memorized a particular verse in the Bible we were given a small pocketsize New Testament. The selected verse was John 3:16. 

Christ finished his mortal life on a hill. It is thanks to what took place on that one hill, and earlier in the garden of Gethsemane, that we can face each new day with hope! There is no sorrow we feel or burden we carry that has not already been felt and lifted by Him. It is in those times when life’s road becomes steep that we can be grateful to know that the hill is where you win. 

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” –John 3:16